Luminous Blue

Tag: Spirituality

  • The Ranges of Grief

    Right now I’m feeling energetic, hopeful and enthusiastic about being alive, and what’s to come.  A few days ago was one of the most intensely emotional days I’ve had, ever. So many tears, such depth of sadness, to the point I couldn’t really use my left brain at all, couldn’t write, could just barely find my center… And while intense emotion doesn’t bother me in itself, I realize the fear that comes up is “what if it’s permanent?!” What if I’ll never be able to think clearly, get grounded, look at anything in my house without being reminded that Elizabeth is dead, and just keep crying all day…Thank goodness some part of me could see outside of this place just enough to remind me that nothing stays the same forever. Nothing.  I believe whenever I’m in something that is uncomfortable, the real fear is that I don’t know how long it will last.  The not knowing is the hardest part. That’s where faith comes in – trusting that this too shall pass, and even if it doesn’t, if I question my beliefs (i.e. is that true? can I absolutely know it’s true?), I realize I’m fine.

    I’m learning that grief is so many things. It is sadness beyond imagining. It is crying so hard I feel like throwing up. It is rage so great I want to break glasses, plates, and big glass doors (haven’t done that yet!). It is memories so sweet and so sad at the same time – like on Thanksgiving, remembering Elizabeth sitting at the table with us last year, having just had her first chemo treatment, with her usual attitude – sweet, polite, gracious, and also a bit above us all, in her ladylike, queen Elizabeth stance. Remembering her making an entrance, so beautiful you’d never know she had cancer or was going through chemo. I’ve had Thanksgiving dinner with her every one of her 22 years, and this first one without her was hard.  Grief can also be this comfort I feel today, trusting that all is ok. It can also be delight, warmth in my heart from small things, like a compliment or an invitation.

    On the days when I wake with that depth of sadness, it feels like I might as well just embrace it and do some of the things I know would bring it on anyway. One day last week that meant attending to a few details like the simple act of finally cancelling Elizabeth’s Spotify account. It was heartbreaking – it also meant logging in to her Facebook account and then I was compelled to read her wall, and I felt her reading it, as though I was seeing the posts through her eyes along with my own, seeing all these diverse friends, parts of her life I wasn’t part of.  At the same time, I couldn’t feel her presence around me as I usually can.  Everything felt so close, so inside me, that I couldn’t get any perspective.  Today I can see the same things, the photos, her clothes, and not be deluged with tears…so much is grace.

    The tears, the sadness, the gratitude and the excitement – I never knew grief had such range.

  • My emails the first week of Elizabeth’s last year: November, 2011

    These are the emails I sent to family and a few close friends when we were in the first week of discovering that Elizabeth had cancer.

    Saturday, November 5, 2011

    Hi all,
    I am writing because Elizabeth is in the hospital today, waiting to have a biopsy on a mass that is in her chest.  She’s in great spirits, with a positive attitude and just mainly having a hard time waiting for results, and wanting to be home.  She’s been having swelling in her upper body, and some pain, and for a few weeks no one could figure out what was going on, so it’s nice to have some of the mystery solved at least.  We are grateful that Ann Marie (our family friend and Elizabeth’s integrative doctor) is close by to support us in this process.  We don’t know what it is, though it’s about the size of her heart, and we are hoping that it’s a benign tumor that can easily be removed.

    I am asking you to hold her in your prayers, asking for the most benevolent outcome, whatever will serve her soul’s highest purpose…

    Elizabeth feels strongly that she doesn’t want people to be worrying and would like to keep all energy as positive as possible. Thank you!

    love,
    Lucia

    Sunday, November 6, 2011

    Hi everyone,
    here’s the latest update – Elizabeth is scheduled for surgery tomorrow afternoon (Monday).

    She asked that we all pray for a miracle, that the tumor be benign, that it be easily treated and removed.  All prayers, love and good wishes are welcome!

    Thank you thank you thank you.
    love,

    Lucia

    Thursday, November 10, 2011

    (to her acuptuncturist) Elizabeth has a large mass in her upper chest, right side, in front, wrapped around her vena cava.  She was at UMC til Tues eve, after they did a biopsy and confirmed the diagnosis of lymphoma.

    today she was supposed to have a port inserted, to start chemo tomorrow at the cancer center, working with Tom Miller (we haven’t met him yet but the Fellow who works with him, Ursa Brown, followed E at umc and she’s great – he’s supposed to be the best in the country for lymphoma, and there are some integrative oncologists there as well). they couldn’t do the port due to the location of the tumor, so had to do a picc line instead.  she’s doing mostly really well, dealing with the pain ok, and emotionally mostly pretty well… with some meltdowns too.  we’re all in shock and moving thru our emotions as best we can.  I’m feeling my way thru how much to take care of her and how much to let her be independent, which is tricky. but she’s pretty clear about what she needs and so far i’m comfortable with supporting her in all those ways.

    energy and prayers are welcome. i know there’s a naturopathic oncologist in town, but haven’t gotten that far yet.  it feels like doing the first chemo is primary, and hopefully will give some relief from the symptoms, esp the swelling, and then i can begin researching complementary things.  also our integrative md friend is working on those angles too…

    L

    Saturday, November 12, 2011

    Hi everyone,
    thanks so much for your emails, prayers and love.

    It’s been a busy week, with lots of tests, iv access line placed, etc…Friday, yesterday, was packed: we met Elizabeth’s main doctor, and the final pathology report confirmed what they’d believed- “large B cell non-hodgkins lymphoma, mediastinal mass” which means a type of lymphoma that’s located in her mediastinal lymph node, right in the center of her chest.  The mass is pressing on the a major vein, so she’s continuing to have lots of swelling in her face and neck, which is the hardest thing for her right now.  The cancer is fast growing, but not spread anywhere else, both of which are good, as it is expected to respond well and quickly to the chemo medication. They did a bone marrow biopsy yesterday as well, but they are not expecting anything  to show up there.

    Elizabeth started chemo yesterday too, with lots of additional meds to help prevent side effects.  They stopped partway through, as she had a slight reaction to one of the drugs, which is very common.  Today she’s receiving it with no problem, sleeping deeply.  She will receive treatment as an outpatient every 3 weeks, and we’ll see how she does with the side effects, hopefully she’ll feel great and be able to go to school.

    Greg (Elizabeth’s father who lives in Berkeley) has been here since Weds and Elizabeth now has a really clean home, with food and clean laundry and filled with love. It’s been great to have his support for her.

    I’m also so grateful for all Zelie (my partner) is doing – taking care of me, our animals and our home, as well as being with Elizabeth…

    love, Lucia

  • Out of the Blue

    On Friday, November 4, 2011, my world completely changed. My older daughter Elizabeth, 21 at that time, called me as I was finishing a qi gong class at home.  She was in tears, having trouble breathing and said something was wrong, she was in so much pain she was headed to the Student Health Center again.  I knew it was serious, as this girl doesn’t cry, and has a very high pain threshold. I immediately said I’d meet her there, jumped in the car and tried to center and calm myself as I drove.  As I walked in to find her, the kind doctor was telling her to go to the ER at UMC.  We asked if she could go home, drop off her car and pick up a few things, and he said yes, but not to delay.  He also called ahead and made sure she knew to tell them she was having chest pain, so she’d be seen quickly.  Apparently he had a very good idea that she had mediastinal non-Hodgkins lymphoma from looking at her, as her face and neck were quite swollen, and that a large tumor wrapped around a vein was causing the swelling. She’d been having pain in her right upper chest for weeks that another doctor had been dismissing as allergies, and treating her with prednisone.

    We didn’t learn the exact diagnosis until after her biopsy on Monday. However within hours of arriving at the ER, her chest x-ray showed us a large mass in her chest, about the size of her heart, just to the right of it. It was shocking to see. Elizabeth was healthy – she’d rarely been sick, had been treated with homeopathic remedies most of her childhood, ate organic whole foods, was a vegetarian since age 14 and had been a dedicated yoga student much of her life. How could she have a mass the size of her fist in her chest? How could she have cancer?!

    Our dear friend Ann Marie, Elizabeth’s doctor, came to sit with us as we waited hours for her be admitted.  I walked outside with her at some point, and started sobbing on her shoulder, “no, no, no, no, no….!” I was worried about all kinds of things, from the cost of the yet unknown treatment and her limited insurance cap, to her being able to complete her semester as a junior at the U of A, to how she would cope emotionally with the diagnosis of cancer, but I did NOT think she would die. That was not in my world of possibilities yet. I couldn’t even imagine my world without Elizabeth.

    We were moved very slowly and gently into that reality, and for that I am deeply grateful. For the eleven months we had after this day, nine of them believing and trusting that she would have a full recovery and live a long, healthy life, and the last two months knowing she would die, I am grateful. Every moment was a blessing. She and I did a lifetime of healing in that time, she lived fully and richly, and in the end, she became love itself, showering us all with love, and in a state of grace that I’m blessed to have experienced in this lifetime.

  • Bird’s Nest

    This was written by Elizabeth in June, 2010, 17 months before she was diagnosed with lymphoma.  She was preparing to leave Tucson for Seattle.  She did not consciously know she would die just over 2 years later, though some part of her clearly did.

    The image is the artwork on which she based the tattoo on the back of her right thigh.  She loved this tattoo and was only able to get the outline completed before she was diagnosed.  Once she started chemo in November of 2011, she was advised to wait until chemo was completed to have the color done, and the tattoo was never finished.

    Elizabeth Blue's Bird's Nest